All The Stars Align
by infinityofthesky
Summary: captain swan, "The stars look especially lovely tonight."


**009:** "The stars look especially lovely tonight."

Killian kept very few things about him the same. He always felt the need to change, to alter the life he had. Emma had assumed it was the cost of a 300 year life, things that can captivate others have lost their appeal to him. It was always small things anyhow; a new order at Granny's, a different route home, books of new genres. It didn't alarm her, he kept his love for the ocean, for the Jolly Roger, for Emma, the same. She figured as long as his core interests remained, as long as his devotions did not alter, than she had no reason to be worried.

But now she was petrified.

She expected he needed time to adjust to the living world once more, that the recovery of his soul would prove to be a heavy and damaging weight upon it. The first few days were challenging, an uphill climb with no traction. He felt undeserving, that she had risked everyone to save no one. Their hearts broke in unison once more. His self-loathing breaking down the last of her fortified walls, her love tearing his conscience apart bit by bit. But with every new sunrise it became easier, the separation between them falling through and gravity pushing them together once more.

But Killian always managed to surprise her.

He began to withdraw from her, from who he was. He would disappear for hours without a word, without a trace. The first few times Emma had searched for him aboard the Jolly but the rotting wood and the layer of dust marking his prized books told her he hadn't visited in a long while. She scoured the docks, searching for a sign of him finding relief in the rolling waves but there was none to be found. Granny's was empty of his presence, as was her parent's apartment, the shops, and the streets. She almost believed it was of magic if it wasn't for the fact he shied away from every demonstration of it.

It was many weeks later, when he returned to their home one evening (the word burned her sometimes, when the sun started to peak through the horizon and she still hadn't slept, for how could it be their home when he was gone from himself?), did she finally confront him. She asked him about his absence, his changes. She asked him about him.

And he answered her.

He changed because he despised the man before. The man before fell victim to the darkness, lied and manipulated, hurt and killed. He preferred the burn of rum, so he changed his drink. He preferred the roar of the ocean, so he took to the quiet lull of the forest. He loved her, so intensely and so passionately, but he did not deserve her. He brought her to the hounds of hell himself and she brought him back to the living. Yet what was her reward? The bitter cold self-hatred that was wound throughout his heart and spread with every beat of it, chilling his body and mind so that just a single knock would shatter him apart once more. He could not bear for her to witness the fall-out.

His words hung heavy in the air. The passion of it engulfing the room, almost visibly rolling off of his body, each clench of muscle and skin thrusting it forwards until it reached Emma where it finally died upon contact. She would not have it. She would not tolerate it.

She slowly walked forward, with each step monitoring his reaction, before she reached him, arms out-stretched and gently touching his forearms.

"I love you. I will always love you. No matter how much you try to fight it, I'll be here."

He blinked, once, twice. His face twisting into some unknown and far-off expression before he evened it and lunged forward, lips interlocking, bodies coming home. She gasped a little into it and, for the first time since they emerged from the Underworld, he laughed. A sweet laugh, one rarely heard, even before the darkness was carved into them. They pulled apart from each other, only slightly, after a minute, heads instead resting on one another's shoulders, lips pressed to hair and skin, simply smiling and breathing.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry." He kissed her hair, inhaling the smell that he missed so desperately.

"Come back to me and I'll forgive you." She buried herself further in the expanse of his shoulder, nose rubbing against his collarbone.

"Deal."

And he did.

It wasn't the same as before the darkness, the atmosphere around them exuding a different energy, strange and unknown, but not unwelcome or unloved. It was different. He kept the Jolly Roger, though only when Henry begged was it released from port and sailed. He made a slow switch back to rum, then to rum spiked hot chocolate, before, finally, pure hot chocolate, no more and no less, than the sort Emma drank. He still found himself wandering the forest at times, heart content with the whisperings of Emma's love in his memory and the crunch of earth beneath his boot.

They did more together than before, no longer reliant on the outside world to push and pull them. They set a weekly date night, his suggestion, and followed through week after week, never once boring of the routine. When they happened past the video store they made it a habit to, at random, pick a movie to watch later that night. Henry dragged them to several different classes around town, pottery, writing, painting (they never could guess if it was because he wanted to learn all he could or if he simply wanted to spend more time with them). They took walks together, footsteps echoing in the darkness of night when they lost track of time, their voices bouncing between the bricks of town.

It was on one of those walks, where the hours blurred past them and the world darkened before it felt as though they blinked, that they stopped to admire the heavens above.

"The stars look especially lovely tonight, Swan." He said, head turning slightly to look at her with a mischievous pull at his lips.

She didn't do the same, eyes instead focused on the celestial bodies overhead, a small smile tugging at her lips as she stood completely content, her son at home asleep, the world quiet, and Killian beside her, happy and free.

She often gazed at the very same batch of stars when she was younger, hoping they controlled the fate of the living, hoping they could hear her silent cries and pleas. She wanted nothing more than what she had currently; love and happiness, family and a home.

She lost herself in the memories and the daze of warmth, eyes welling up with moisture, almost releasing a few tears, but before they escaped she heard a crunch of gravel and turned to look.

"You're about to cry and I haven't even properly proposed yet." Killian kneeled before her, a self-satisfied smirk playing at his lips, holding a velvet covered box bearing a small diamond ring stretched towards her, "A job well done, I must say."

She shot forwards without hesitation, hands grabbing the ring and roughly shoving it onto her finger, before grabbing his lapel and tugging him upwards, lips meeting his in desperate desire. She curled her left hand into his hair and he moaned at the feeling of the metal against his scalp.

He pulled back just enough to allow air to once again flow to his lungs and, with his lips rubbing against hers, said, "You didn't even allow me to properly propose."

"Don't care." The words were almost lost to the world as she leaned in closer and sealed the engagement.


End file.
